Loneliness isn't so lonely
by Minecraft Guardiansaiyan
Summary: Loneliness Isn't So Lonely Tim confesses something sad...and Uncle Martin does what he does best.


Found this and the person who wrote it is no longer writing it…so I don't own the movie it's from nor the character or this original story…If you know who wrote this then please tell them it's here cause this really spoke to me and I needed this…enjoy…

Disclaimer: Do not own My Favorite Martian (movie) or characters in it…or the story…

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Loneliness Isn't So Lonely

Tim confesses something sad...and Uncle Martin does what he does best.

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The night Tim O'Hara discovered he was utterly alone in the world was decidedly the best night of his life. As one should expect, though, finding out he was alone wasn't the reason that night became the best night of all twenty-eight years of his life. In fact, one could even argue that it was the best night of his life because he found he wasn't alone. Not that it would make a difference since nothing has been explained as of yet.

It began with a seemingly harmless late-night trip to the desert, accompanied—of course—by his Martian "uncle." They packed up a blanket, some sandwiches, and a radio in case they didn't want to talk, even though Uncle Martin himself could be used as a radio if he so chose.

It was just a night they felt they needed to get away from the busy city of Los Angeles and enjoy nature for itself; it was actually Tim's idea because he'd had a particularly rough week at the paper and decided if he was going to remain a sensible, law-abiding citizen, he needed to get away from carbon-based life-forms, just for a while. Which meant Martin was more than welcome to join him.

By the time they reached a decent spot in the desert it was just a bit before midnight, and luckily the clouds that hung above L.A. didn't follow them outside the city. Tim set out the blanket while Martin checked around for nests or hideaways that could bring danger. None to be seen, and Tim flopped down on the blanket, emitting a loud, cathartic sigh as he went down. Martin joined him a second later.

The two lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the quiet of the desert and the fact that they could see so many more stars than they could back at the apartment, even on a clear night. Every once in a while Tim would look around for a scorpion or snake, but there would be none.

"Why is that?"

Martin looked over at him. "Why is what?"

Tim, realizing he'd voiced the question aloud, shrugged. "Oh, just...I've seen no creepy-crawlers around here, that's all."

There was a pause, and the hush of night settled again.

"It must be my antennae."

"Hm?"

The silence was so comfortable, yet once Martin started talking again it felt as if he were carrying on a constant conversation. "My antennae. I send out a faint, high-pitched frequency using my antennae that I'm certain must annoy some animals and insects."

Tim shook his head, amused. "That is something else, Uncle Martin."

Another welcome silence enveloped them, though as the silence went on and Tim continued watching the sky, a thought that hadn't visited him in a while started to slowly seep into his mind. Pretty soon it was all he could think about.

He took a breath. "I think you'll get home."

It took Martin a few seconds to not only register the fact that Tim had spoken, but the words he had spoken as well. He turned his head to look at the younger man and raised his eyebrows. "I hope so." He watched the reporter for a while, noticing something wasn't quite right. "What's the matter?"

"I don't belong here."

The confession caused a slight vibration in Martin's antennae, which surprised him. He ignored it, though, and frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tim seemed to struggle with his next words. "If I sit down and really think about it...I realize that I'm alone here. This...this is not my place."

"Well...at least you're not a Martian stuck on Earth for an indefinite amount of time."

"At least...I'm not a Martian," Tim echoed distractedly, and Martin suddenly understood the seriousness in which he was speaking. "You have a chance," the human said, his gaze fixed on the stars, "to get back home. It's inevitable. But I...I don't know. You'll get back home and be among your fellow Martians...and where will I be? I'll still be here...with not only no one to talk to or spend my days with, but I'll have the constant feeling that this is not where I belong."

Martin raised himself up on his elbows and watched Tim, a little stunned. "Tim...what do you mean 'no one to talk to'? You'll have the guys at the office, right?"

Tim waved a hand dismissively, not removing his eyes from the stars. "Oh, they're just colleagues. They're not..." He fell silent, and the Martian's antennae vibrated once again within his skull. "They're not friends."

The question that appeared in Martin's mind at that moment was a question to which he almost didn't want an answer, but his conscience kept nagging at him to ask. He had the feeling Tim knew the question was coming anyway.

"Then...besides me..." Martin sat up all the way and brought his voice down to a near-whisper. "Who are your friends?"

He was granted with utter silence. Not a single name seemed to even murmur through Tim's head, and suddenly Martin understood why his antennae were sending him signals. The younger man slowly sat up and stared straight ahead of him, his expression utterly blank.

Martin hated this.

"I'll be fine," Tim said abruptly, wanting to break the freshly uncomfortable silence. "If I could handle twenty-seven years of loneliness, how is it logically possible for me not to adjust once you're gone?"

With an unmistakable frustration at the situation, Martin gripped Tim's arm and pointed to a specific point in the sky. "You see that?"

After a few moments of squinting and searching, Tim nodded. "Yeah."

"That's Mars."

"Alright..."

"Even when I'm gone, Tim, I want you to embed within your conscious and subconscious mind that I will always be a glance away. Looking at Mars right now, does it seem like it's all that far away?"

"Not really."

"Then that's how close I will be. Always."

Tim lowered his gaze from Mars to the Martian sitting beside him, still firmly holding his arm and almost forcefully assuring him he'd never be alone...and discovered he was telling him just that. Something changed within him then, something relaxed...suddenly he felt comfortable in his own skin. It wasn't a feeling he'd often had.

"Thank you," he whispered, and unexpectedly his eyes began to water. He shook his head roughly. "Ouch...there's...something in my eye..."

Martin let go of his arm and smiled sympathetically. "You want me to take a look?"

"No, no," Tim reassured him, turning away and waving a hand dismissively. "No, I've...almost got it." Martin rested a hand on Tim's back as the latter allowed a few tears to spill over. He gave up, turned back, and grinned through it. "You know, you're really my favorite person."

Martin shook his head subtly, and Tim's brow furrowed in mock seriousness.

"Sorry," he corrected as they both made to lie back down. "You're my favorite Martian."

Nothing needed to be said for the rest of the night.


End file.
